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They store the Kyūbi in a teapot stolen from Sungakure, where they left behind an artist’s best impression of the artefact—with no one the wiser—many years ago. The Kyūbi writhes and rages within, but finds no bend in the seal, no weakness in the porcelain. He is caged, once more, with less space than ever; and he will sink his teeth into those responsible, will tear them apart with claw and fang, will see them burn in a jutsu of his making.
Meanwhile, Danzō grins with all his teeth and selects his best ROOT-nin. The one who will become the perfect weapon. There is one in particular that he has in mind, who has excellent chakra control and is relatively young. The best weapons are those crafted from an early age, Danzō knows.
He stands before Danzō now, not overly tall with pale skin and dark eyes. However, beside him another ROOT-nin stands, slightly older though not much bigger, and tries to sway Danzō’s mind.
It is not going well.
Still, Shin does his best, and adamantly refuses to show any pleading on his face for he knows that will do him no good. “Past jinchūriki’s have shown difficulties with chakra control,” he says. “There have been writings that suggest the more tails a bijū has, the more challenge an individual faces when maintaining their chakra control. There is also no knowing the effect it would have on the ink jutsus frequently utilised by the ROOT-nin in question, but it is likely that the upset in chakra control would have a negative effect on this, too. Overall, this suggests that there will be a great deal of adjustment that will need to be undertaken and could have negative repercussions on the operative’s skillset and mission ability.”
“You have a point,” Danzō says after a pause, and Shin ignores the shiver running down his spine, the hair lifting on his neck, the goose bumps rising on his skin. “Did you have another option, however? Or do you come to me with only problems that I, who is now Godaime Hokage and twice as busy, must fix?”
Shin ducks his head. “I apologise for my arrogance, and promise that I have come forward with a solution alongside my concerns. I would be willing to step forward and take the place of the one beside me. While my chakra control is not as fine-tuned, it is the malleability of my chakra that will make me a useful tool in this regard. I believe that this will mean I am able to better utilise the Kyūbi’s chakra by making it one with my own, similar to how I can conduct chakra transfers by giving others some of my chakra to boost their own capabilities.”
“You believe, do you?”
Shin’s hands grow clammy, but he refuses to swallow. Instead, he offers a simple nod. “It is only my own reasoning, and thus I have no evidence to support my claims, but the reasoning is sound. But it is as you command, Danzō-sama, I have no wish to usurp your position. I understand your time is costly, which is why I have only brought this up to you now, when I have a possible solution to offer too.”
“Hmm.” A pause, and then, “Very well. It is as you say, you may indeed be the better choice. Enter the sealing space then, and we shall see the transfer complete.”
He does as bid, not offering his companion a passing glance. Shin knows that if he looks, he’ll break. He’s doing this for his little brother, and there is much worse he would do to protect him. No jinchūriki lives an easy life, and Shin knows that his little brother won’t either, but he can try and make it a little easier where he can.
And so, Shin stands in the middle of the seal even as chakra scorches his veins and the pain sees him gritting his teeth. He stands until he can stand no more and blackness steals his vision away.
When he wakes, he is surrounded by darkness, except for an iron cage that stands before him, somehow visible despite the shadows. It houses a beast like none other. A nine-tailed fox taller than a house with eyes made of fire, and a rage that is palpable and heavy enough that Shin staggers beneath it.
The Kyūbi roars and rages and its tails lash like fury brought to life. It doesn’t look at Shin, doesn’t give him a word, but snarls and growls and seethes from within its cage.
But then, slowly, it grows quieter and its eyes fall on Shin at long last. “YOU!” it roars. “YOU ARE MY NEW JAILER?”
Shin says not a word. A mask covers his mouth with a single word embroidered onto it.
It reads ‘SILENCE’.
The Kyūbi notices this, for it must, and then it begins to laugh. It laughs long and hard, and only when it laughs no more, does it say to Shin, “We are both caged then, you and I. But only one of us will live to see the dawn. You, who are sealed, will die as you have lived: a pathetic worm, unable to help even yourself. I, who am sealed, will live as I have lived before: escaped from my jailer and living free once more. Do not expect my help, maggot. I care not for you or your ways. Be gone from my sight!”
And Shin, who is used to taking orders from those bigger and stronger than himself, simply bows his head and lets the darkness whisk him away.
When he opens his eyes once more, something growls in the back of his head and he knows that there is no escaping this.
But his brother has, and that’s something. It’s enough.
It has to be.